The One With A Thanksgiving Carol
by Oldreruns
Summary: It is 1993. Chandler refuses to celebrate Thanksgiving, preferring to spend the holiday alone. What he doesn't know is that if he doesn't change his ways, his own future & the future of his friends could be in jeopardy. Can the spirits that visit him convince him to see the value in family? An AU that is a mix of A Christmas Carol & Friends. Heart/Humor. Thanks for reading.
1. The Houseboy's Ghost

**The Houseboy's Ghost**

**Thanksgiving 1978**

His parents' marriage was dead. Dead as a doornail. Chandler had no doubt about that. His father was already packing his bags in the other room. His mother was on her second bottle of chardonnay as she sat in the parlor. Neither one of them noticed when Chandler slipped out of the dining room right after dinner was served and disappeared upstairs to his bedroom. Neither one of them came to check on him, even though he was certain that his projectile vomiting could be heard throughout the entire home. Neither one of them seemed to be concerned about anything except themselves.

He sat on the edge of his bed for over two hours, waiting for one of them to come into his room to tell him everything would be okay, and that they had worked everything out and they would be a family again. He was certain that if he just stayed in his room, his mother and father would be overcome with concern for his well-being and forget all about their squabbles and focus on him, and on what he needed. What he needed, was for his family to be put back together again.

Much to Chandler's surprise, no one came.

Soon after, his father had left with the houseboy, he didn't even think to say goodbye. He was too lost in his own desires to spare a thought for his son. His mother retired to her bedroom with yet another bottle of wine. She was too preoccupied with her own humiliation, rather than the fragile state of the boy who was alone in his room. It was then that Chandler realized he did not have a family anymore. Maybe, he never had one to begin with.

He wanted to blame someone, anyone he could, for what had happened. He thought of his mother at first; obviously she knew his father liked the company of young men. Why would she even think to start a family with him, knowing it could end in disaster. Why take the chance at all this misery and hurt everyone with her selfishness?

His father also seemed like a good candidate for who he should hold responsible, he was the one sleeping around. There were already many times that he had found his father and one of his many paramours in various stages of undress around their home. More concerned with his own physical needs than keeping his family together.

He could blame the houseboy, who obviously did not care that he was pulling them all apart. Sauntering around the house and no concern for who he would hurt as he sought pleasure from a married man. Not a thought about the family that he left shattered in his wake.

Family. That word seemed so different now than it did a few hours ago. Before dinner, Chandler had watched the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade on television and then The Charlie Brown Special. Blissfully unaware that a meteor was about to hit his home. He sat there in front of the TV and could not wait to dig into all that food he could smell coming from the kitchen. The cranberries, the stuffing, the pies and the cookies. He was ready to stuff himself until he burst.

Then it hit him. He knew exactly who to blame. Thanksgiving. The so-called "family holiday" that now seemed to mock him. What good is a day to celebrate family when there was no family to celebrate?

Chandler stood up and walked across his bedroom. On his desk was a large pinecone that had been crudely painted, with pipe cleaners and googly eyes glued to it, turning it into a makeshift turkey. An art project of his from first grade. He grabbed this childish thing he had made only a few short years ago and angrily tossed it into the garbage. Thanksgiving was now dead to him. Dead as a doornail.

* * *

**Thanksgiving 1993**

Chandler could only shake his head as he watched Joey spin around blindly pointing and laughing. He wished he had a camera so he could take a photograph and then later on, show his friend how stupid he looked with that turkey on his head.

Chandler would burst out laughing at his roommate right now if he didn't notice how angry Monica was. He knew better than to even smile and have her focus her ire on him. Let Joey take the brunt of that. There would be plenty of time to laugh at him later on.

As if on cue, Monica began to shout angrily. "Joey! Get over here! Chandler! Don't just stand there! Help me get this turkey off of him!"

Chandler gestured with his hands for her to calm down, which only seemed to frustrate her more. "Okay, okay. Uh, let's get something to grease around his head. How about butter?"

Joey stopped his motions and turned around again, still not facing anyone. "Ooo. I like the sound of that."

Chandler shook his head. "Not to eat Joe."

"Oh."

Monica ran to the refrigerator and grabbed a stick of butter. "All right. Hold still Joe." She began to rub the stick all around him at any exposed skin she could find. Trying her best to coat him with a layer of butter right at the edge of where the turkey met his neck and jawline.

Phoebe stood back and twisted her face up in disgust. "See, this is why everyone should be a vegetarian. No one ever got their head stuck in an eggplant."

"Phoebe! Now is not the time!" Monica tossed the stick of butter onto the kitchen table and pushed Joey, forcing him to bend over slightly. "Okay, Chandler, come here and help pull on this thing."

Chandler walked over and started to tug on Joey's shoulders while Monica tried to work her fingers between his skin and the turkey.

"I think it's coming!"

"Oww! It hurts!"

"You should have thought of that before you put it on."

"Can I at least have the butter when we're done?"

Chandler shook his head. "Come on Joe. We are almost there…"

With a pop, the turkey slid off Joey's head as the two men fell backwards, almost stumbling to the ground. Monica caught the turkey in her arms and quickly placed it on the table. She narrowed her eyes and glared at Joey and then turned her attention to the turkey and started to inspect it for damage.

"Mon, I am so sorry. I would stay here and help, but I really think I should take a shower. I think I got turkey guts in my ear." Joey quickly walked out the door, only to turn back, walk over to the table, grab the stick of butter, and then leave the apartment once again.

"Well, I'm glad that's over. Of course, now this beautiful creature has been defiled twice!"

Chandler started to chuckle to himself. "Yeah Pheebs. You could almost say it's fowl." Phoebe shook her head and stared at him, clearly unamused by his pun.

Monica, satisfied that the bird was still in good shape, let out a sigh of relief. She then looked up at Chandler. "Hey, you know, my offer still stands. You can come with me and Ross to my parents' house for Thanksgiving."

Chandler let out one loud, fake laugh and shook his head. "Oh no. Me and your parents' home on that day do not have a good history. I'd rather spend Thanksgiving covered in honey on an ant-hill. It would be safer."

Phoebe looked over at Chandler, confused, but quickly dismissed him with a shake of her head. "You mean, you aren't even going to go with Joey to his family's house? You're just going to stay here by yourself tomorrow? Alone in the apartment?"

"Yep. I've got a giant bag of funyuns, a six pack of beer, and channel nine is airing a marathon of 'Rich Man, Poor Man'. I am all set."

Monica walked over and gently grabbed Chandler by the arm. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. The less traditional tomorrow is the better. I just wish I could order a pizza, but the place will be closed."

Monica shook her head and frowned. "Okay. If that's what you want."

...

Chandler kicked his feet up onto the couch and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "That was so good! I can't believe no one else was here to watch all twelve episodes with me!" He turned his head to look at the clock. "Wow. Is it after midnight already?"

He started to stretch out and saw on the television an old black and white movie start to play. He reached down for the remote and attempted to change the channel, but nothing happened. He sat up, shook his head and pointed at the television. "I don't want to walk all the way over there." The opening titles for the film began to flash across the screen and Chandler raised an eyebrow. "Alastair Sim? I know that name. What is this?" He sat back down on the couch as the film's title finally flashed across the screen. "Oh yeah, A Christmas Carol. Jeez, kind of early for Christmas, don't you think channel nine?"

Chandler laid his head down on the arm rest of the couch and placed the remote back on the floor. "Well, I guess I can watch this for a few minutes. I haven't seen this version since I was a kid." Chandler then looked around the apartment. "Am I talking to myself?" He looked down at the empty bag of funyuns. "I should not have eaten this entire bag. I think it made me crazy. I'm still talking out loud, aren't I?"

Chandler returned his attention to the movie and almost immediately, his eyes started to become heavy. It did not take long for him to find himself struggling to stay awake. He thought about getting up and going to his bedroom, but he was too comfortable to move, and soon enough, he had fallen asleep.

...

A loud clatter spread across the apartment, which startled Chandler awake. He quickly sat up and looked around as he blinked his eyes and tried to focus in the dark room. He could see mostly shadows as the only light in the apartment was coming from the television, which was airing static and playing a dull, white noise. He spoke out quietly at first, allowing a very small, "Joe?" to escape his lips as he wondered if his roommate had returned home.

When he heard no one answer, he slowly stood up, grabbed the empty chip bag and waved it around. "Is anyone here?" He looked down at the bag in his hand and shrugged his shoulders. "I have a weapon! I'm not afraid to use it."

"Are you talking about that bag? Because if you are, honey, you are in some real trouble."

Chandler jumped back and fell down onto the couch when he heard an unfamiliar voice answer him. "Who? What? How?"

"When and where are next." A small Asian man stepped into the light of the television and smiled at Chandler. He was pale, almost white and seemingly translucent. Chandler could swear he saw the light from the television shine through him, which only increased his panic and fear.

He pushed the bag in the direction of the man who appeared before him. "If you're here to rob me," he pointed over at Joey's bedroom. "That's where I keep all my stuff. And if you're here to kill me, please don't?"

The spirit started to laugh and Chandler turned his head sideways. He remembered that laugh, but he could not recall where from.

The ghost stepped closer to Chandler and huffed. "You really don't recognize me? Remember Thanksgiving. 1978. 'More turkey mister Chandler'?"

Chandler, startled again, jumped back on the couch, causing him to flip over the arm and onto the floor. He struggled to get back up, but once he stood, he could see that this was not a man. Everything on him was white and grey. Even his face, eyes and hair were shades of charcoal. He did recognize who this was, but it made no sense, and Chandler was having trouble putting words together coherently. "You! But, what…I don't…"

"Look, honey. It is a long story, let's just say, ten years after I last saw you, I ran into a very hungry alligator in Miami. Now, my spirit walks the earth. I know, how droll. That's Florida for you."

Chandler looked down at the empty bag of funyuns and started to laugh. "Oh wait. I get it. You're not real. I ate this entire bag and now I'm hallucinating. You're just an undigested funyun."

"A funyun?"

"Yeah, or maybe a bad piece of hot dog. You aren't real, you're just, indigestion."

"A piece of hot dog? Indigestion?"

Chandler turned the bag around and began to scan the ingredients. "Yeah. You're more maltodextrin than ghostly apparition."

The smile faded from the spirit's face as it became very serious. It rose up and levitated a few feet from the ground and started to howl loudly, vibrating a blood-curdling sound throughout the apartment and almost through Chandler's bones. Shaking him to his core. "I am no funyun!"

Chandler leapt back again, only to hit his head against the wall. "Okay! Okay! You're not a hallucination. You're just, the spirit of the guy my dad slept with when I was a kid. Sure, why not go with that."

The ghost floated back down to the ground and shook its head. "Look, I don't want to scare you, but your future is bleak. I mean, buh-leak!"

"Sure. That's not scary. I mean, in high school I was voted most likely to have a bleak future."

"Well, you should have. You lost faith in family kid. Don't you know what that will do to you?"

"What?"

"Look at you, eating crap food, sitting alone all night on Thanksgiving. This is a day for family, for love and warmth, and you can have all of that, but instead, you're just sitting here watching television and feeling sorry for yourself."

Chandler pointed at the ghost and puffed out his chest. "Hey. I'll have you know; I feel sorry for myself all year round. Not just on Thanksgiving. I don't know why I sound proud about that. I'm not."

The ghost raised an eyebrow and shook its head. "Look mister Chandler, when I died, I was made to walk the earth because I broke up a few families in my day."

"A few?"

"Miami in the eighties was crazy!"

Chandler rolled his eyes. "What does this have to do with me?"

"It isn't too late for you to find family again. You're so close to it and you don't even know. If you let yourself feel that again, your future will be so bright."

"Even if I were to believe any of this was really happening, what do I want family for? They just let you down. Anyway, I'm a Bing. We don't do family very well."

The ghost sighed and attempted to place its hand on Chandler's shoulder, but instead, it passes through his arm. "Oh right, I'm a ghost. I keep forgetting that I can't touch you." The spirit floated around the room and then levitated in front of Chandler. "Look. If you don't mend your ways, you are going to end up like me. Wandering the earth, unable to move on, because of how stubborn you are. Only, you won't look as good as I do, sweetie."

"Well, I don't like the sound of that."

"But I'm going to help you."

"I love the sound of that!"

"You will be visited by three spirits tonight."

"No thank you."

"What?"

"Look, I think I have had my fill of spirits visiting me. Also, I'm not really that brave, so seeing more ghosts, kind of goes against my whole vibe."

"You don't really have a choice Chandler."

"Well, uh, could they maybe just send me a letter?"

"Look, I'm just here to soften you up to it. Get you used to seeing ghosts. The first one will be here at one. So, just, don't fall asleep. You do not want a ghost waking you up. Some of them are so old, they forgot how sleep works."

"Oh, that's okay. After tonight, I am never sleeping again."

The ghost turned and began to float towards the window of the apartment. "Just be ready. You know, more than just your future depends on it."

Chandler stood up and walked over to the front door. "You sure you don't want to go out this way? I think there's a little old lady on the second floor who you can frighten and give a heart attack to. Or maybe Mr. Heckles?"

"Oh honey, don't get me started on that guy." The ghost turned back towards the window and began to pass through the glass as if it was not there. Soon enough, it was gone, and floating out into the night air.

Chandler, still in shock, bounded across the room and lifted the window up. He stuck his head out and watched as the spirit of the houseboy floated down the street. His eyes went wide and his mouth went slack as he looked around, the sky was filled with spirits, moaning as they slowly floated around the city. Some took time to look directly at him, and Chandler, frightened by this, quickly slammed the window shut. He ducked underneath and tried to stay out of sight from anyone outside. He closed his eyes tightly and muttered to himself. "Please be a dream. Please be a dream. Please be a dream."

From somewhere in the living room, a clock began to chime. One, loud gong, heard throughout the apartment, which shook his eardrums and rattled his teeth. "Okay, we do not have a clock that does that! Why am I still talking to myself?"

"Well, you can talk to me."

Chandler, his eyes still closed, tilted his head at the familiar voice. "Ross?"

"Well, not exactly."

Chandler opened his eyes, and, standing there before him was Ross Geller. There was a glow around his body, that was practically blinding, and Chandler had to hold his hand up to filter out the glare. Once Chandler could look past the bright light, he saw that the Ross who was in his apartment was not the same Ross he knew from today. Instead, Chandler recognized that his friend's appearance resembled that of the Ross he first met in college back in 1987.

His hair was done up in tight, greasy looking curls, which fell down to just above his shoulders. He had a trimmed mustache above his upper lip and he was wearing a light blue Member's Only jacket. This Ross that he was staring at looked nervous, but he smiled at Chandler and held out his hand. "Ross? What happened? Why do you look like Mister Kotter?"

The spirit before him shook his head and chuckled. "I'm not Ross. I'm the ghost of Thanksgiving past."

* * *

A/N – I know, seriously, I know! Yet another story, but I couldn't help it. I watched the Patrick Stewart version of "A Christmas Carol" tonight and this just sprang out of my mind, almost fully formed. I didn't want to wait and write it in a month or two, and have it be totally out of sync with the calendar, so I had to write it now. I know we are already almost a month away from Thanksgiving, but really, that is the only holiday that works for Chandler. And Chandler is the only character from the show that works as a stand in for Scrooge. So, obviously, this will be my own wacky twist of A Christmas Carol and Friends canon events, and hopefully, when I am done, it won't be too far out there.

I will still update my other stories, but the pre-mondler one might take a break until I am done with this. This story will only be about five chapters long anyway. Each spirit's visit and an epilogue, so I should be able to bang it out fairly quickly and not have it interfere with anything else.

I set the Joey turkey-on-the-head incident in 1993 so that it would be one year before the first Friends Thanksgiving.

As always, thank you so much for taking the time to read this, and thanks to anyone who leaves a review.


	2. Ross: The First of the Three Spirits

**Ross, the First of the Three Spirits**

**Thanksgiving 1993**

Chandler, was still cowering on the floor after being confronted by a second ghost in as many hours. He looked up at Ross with suspicious eyes. He studied the apparition before him that oddly resembled his old college roommate more than the man he knew as Ross today. "Who are you again?"

Ross let a warm, smile spread across his lips. "The Ghost of Thanksgiving Past."

"Like, as in long past? Throughout history?"

"No, just your past."

"This sounds so familiar." Chandler positioned himself to lean up against the wall so that he could sit up straight. He allowed his eyes to travel over his visitor once more. He remembered meeting Ross in college for the first time in 1987. He came into the dorm with his bag over his shoulder and his hair curled so tight, Chandler thought it might snap off his head. Ross complimented him on his wall hanging and Chandler pointed out the small keyboard Ross pulled out of his bag. The two men hit it off almost immediately.

Chandler stared at this younger version of his friend for a moment longer, before he could find the wherewithal to speak again. "What's with the mustache and the perm?"

"We tend to take forms familiar to the people we visit. Since I am the spirit of your past, I got this, which is a look that is definitely from your past and not from where I come from. No immortal deity or demi-god would ever choose to look like this."

Chandler chuckled to himself. "Not that many mortals wanted to look like that either."

Ross sighed and shook his head. "Yes. Because everybody was sporting the Flock of Seagulls haircut with pride back then."

"Hey! They were a popular band in the 80s."

"They were big in 1982! You were five years too late!"

Chandler gasped in wounded shock and then shook his head slowly to accentuate the perceived betrayal. Ross stretched out his hand. "Just take my hand so we can start this."

"Start what?"

A goofy smile formed on Ross's lips. "Our magical journey together."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm not gay." Chandler gestured sympathetically at Ross and shook his head.

Ross huffed loudly and grabbed Chandler by the wrist, pulling him off the ground. "Not that kind of journey!"

**Thanksgiving 1981**

Suddenly, the room began to fade away from sight. Slowly at first, as carpeting morphed into a paved road and curtains gave way to a gathering of bare trees. Chandler looked up and the ceiling disappeared, becoming a cold, grey sky. Leaves were blowing along the ground and a chill filled the air. Chandler hugged himself as he shivered and Ross shook his head.

"Sorry, I forgot how cold it was going to be." Ross reached over and touched Chandlers shoulder, and from his finger dripped a yellow, amorphous blob that became a Members Only windbreaker once it enveloped Chandler's body. "That better?"

Chandler looked down at himself and the new jacket he was wearing. "Sure, if I wanted to look cool in 1986." Chandler's eyes darted around and then he noticed a familiar driveway leading up to a building. "Hey, I know this place." Chandler jogged up a bit in front of Ross and stopped in his tracks as he saw the stone sign set in front of the steps to the building. He ran his fingers over the engraved lettering as he spoke the name out loud. "St. Joseph's School for Boys".

Ross caught up with him and put his hand on his shoulder. "This is where your mom sent you to school, right?"

"Yeah." Chandler looked down, crestfallen, as a few cars with luggage tied to their roof racks drove past him. Students voices could be heard, along with overlapping laughter, as families came to pick up their children for the holiday. Chandler looked up at the cold, colorless building that was cast against a washed-out sky. It was foreboding, and Chandler shivered as he felt a chill run across his shoulders.

"So, you got some good memories from this place?"

Chandler looked back at Ross and wrinkled his brow. "You got that from this face I'm making right now?"

Ross shrugged his shoulders and looked at the building. "I don't know. Did they have a cool science department?"

Chandler shook his head. "Wow. You must do really well with the ghost ladies." He looked back up at the building. "Why are we here?"

"There is a strong Thanksgiving memory for you here." Ross grabbed Chandler by the arm and in a flash, they were standing in his dorm room. Chandler looked over and saw himself, twelve years younger than he was now, sitting on the edge of his twin-size bed. Ross looked over and sat down next to Chandler's younger self.

Chandler's eyes widened nervously. "Hey! Don't do that. He's going to see us."

"No one can see us. We can only observe. We can't affect anything. Look." Ross reached over and started to swing his hand through Chandler's face as if he were slapping him. "See?"

"Okay, you don't have to look so happy about trying to smack me."

"Sometimes, you kind of deserve it." Ross chuckled and then stood up next to Chandler. "So, what are we looking at here?"

"Well, I am pretty sure this is the Thanksgiving my mother forgot to get me. She was in L.A. promoting a book and swore she would send a car to take me home for the break."

"Did the car ever come?"

"No. I did end up having a lovely dinner from the vending machine." Chandler walked around the room and pointed at the bag of funyuns resting on the bed next to his younger self. "Plus the television in the common room got channel 11 and I was able to watch a Honeymooners marathon."

"Is this why you eat that every year and watch TV?"

"Got to remember where you came from, right?"

Ross shook his head, placed his hand on Chandler's shoulder and snapped his fingers.

**Thanksgiving 1987**

In a flash Chandler was no longer at his all-boy high school. Instead, he saw himself standing next to a small dresser, he was a bit older than the child they had just visited. He recognized his hair, done up in spikes and a peacock wave. "Why did I ever look like that?"

Ross turned and looked at Chandler. "Now where are we?"

"College. Judging by my unfortunate haircut, it looks like it is around 1987."

Ross nodded. Before he could speak, the door to the dorm room swung open and the Ross from this memory entered the room. "Hey man. You almost all set to go?"

"Yeah. I just packed our fake IDs."

"This is going to be totally tubular!"

The younger Chandler shook his head. "Wow. Keep saying things like that and they might not even check to see if we're twenty-one." The younger Ross mocked a laugh and pulled out a duffel bag. Chandler watched him as he started to put clothes inside it. His shoulders deflated and he exhaled heavily before speaking again. "Hey, uh, you don't have to bring me along if you don't want to. I'll be fine here."

"What? And leave you alone for Thanksgiving?"

"It's okay. I've done Thanksgiving on my own for a long time. It isn't really that big of a deal for me."

Ross narrowed his eyes and then slapped Chandler playfully on his shoulder. "Nope. You're coming. Okay. It'll be great."

The Ghost of Thanksgiving Past looked over at Chandler and put his hand on his shoulder. "He was a good friend to invite you to spend the holiday with his family."

Chandler nodded. "He is still a good friend."

"They all took you in and accepted you pretty quickly, huh?"

"Yeah. I figured that they were just being nice. The Gellers are a little weird, but they are good people. Ross and Monica more than most."

"I think if you kept going with them to their home, things may have worked out differently. Why did you stop?"

Chandler turned to Ross and glared at him. "Are you kidding me? How could you forget?"

"You're right. I know why, Sir Limps-a-lot." Ross chuckled and grabbed Chandler by the arm again.

**Thanksgiving 1988**

Another flash of light and then the world came back into focus. Chandler and the ghost found themselves in the Geller's living room. It was dark, save for some beams of moonlight breaking through the window between the curtains. Chandler saw that his younger self was lying on the couch under a blanket. One bandaged foot was sticking out and hung over the arm of the couch.

Chandler turned to Ross. "Man. That couch was so uncomfortable. I hardly fit."

Suddenly, in the shadows, a sleight figure danced through the darkness and tiptoed through the moonlight. Chandler turned to look at Ross. "Who's that? Another spirit?"

"You don't remember?"

"Remember what?"

"You know, you were hopped up on so many painkillers and my mother's cooking sherry, I can understand if you forgot."

"Forgot what?" Chandler turned his attention from Ross back to the figure who was now sitting beside his younger self.

"Psst. You awake?" The figure leaned over and her face broke through the beams of light that were coming into the room, revealing the mysterious visitor to be Monica.

"No." Chandler squeezed his eyes shut, as if to exaggerate his repose.

Monica sighed and looked up and down at Chandler and then winced as her gaze stopped at his foot. "I'm so sorry."

"You know what, if you say it again, I think it'll grow back."

Monica grit her teeth, but then calmed herself as she reached out to touch his arm. "I feel terrible."

"You should. Feeling terrible about this is actually the appropriate response."

"I just came down to see if you needed anything."

"Sure, that's what you say. How do I know you haven't come back down here to finish me off. Let me see your hands to make sure you aren't armed."

Monica looked down and scoffed. "It was just a little piece of your toe."

"Monica, there is no acceptable amount of toe to lose."

Monica huffed and stood up. "I was going to ask you if you wanted to switch and take my bed and I'll sleep on the couch. I know it is a little too small for you."

Chandler turned to look at the Ghost. "Wait. I think I do remember this."

Ross nodded as he watched the scene before him unfold. "She was up all night, sick with guilt."

"Oh man. Do you think I missed out on a chance to score with her? I mean, it wouldn't be the first time I accepted pity sex and she was really hot."

"Eww! Gross. Come on man! That's my sister."

"What? I thought you weren't really Ross."

"I'm Ross enough to know I don't want you talking about having sex with Monica!"

Chandler turned and looked at his younger self and Monica as the two of them continued to talk. He tapped Ross on the arm. "You don't have to worry about that. I mean, we're friends now, me and Monica. I don't even think about her like that."

Ross smiled and put his hand on Chandler's shoulder. "You're more than that."

**Thanksgiving 1991**

The scene before them changes as shadows dance along the walls of the Geller's home. The window becomes twisted and stretched out, forming into a door as the rest of the room shrank in size. Chandler exhaled a sigh of relief as he finds himself back in his apartment in Manhattan. "Oh thank God, we're done."

"We're not done. This is your first Thanksgiving in the apartment."

Chandler looked around the room again and jumped back as he saw himself sitting on the couch. "I will never get used to this."

The door to the apartment swung open and Monica walked in. "Chandler?"

Chandler stood up and ran his hand over his chin as he stroked his facial hair. "What's up?"

"Oh man. I forgot I had a goatee. Maybe I should grow it back. You know, I looked good in that."

Ross squinted his eyes and looked off to the side. "Did you though?" Chandler shook his head as the two of them returned their attention to the memory that was unfolding before them.

Monica walked over and placed her hands on Chandler's chest. "Please come to my parents for Thanksgiving. I hate the idea of you rattling around the apartment all alone."

"Alone? Are you kidding me?" Chandler picked up a playboy magazine from the coffee table. "Me and Erika Eleniak here are going to have a wonderful time together."

Monica screwed her face up in disgust. "Gross."

Chandler laughed as he tossed the magazine back down. "Besides, you guys don't want me tagging along making everybody miserable."

Monica rolled her eyes and then looked back up at him. "Are you sure? No one will mind. I'll even make you something to eat."

Ross looked over at Chandler. "It's nice to have someone who cares about you like this, isn't it."

"Oh, she does this for everyone. Monica can't help but try to take care of all her friends." Ross shook his head and grabbed Chandler's arm. Before he could whisk them away to another Thanksgiving memory, Chandler looked at Monica and smiled. "It is nice though."

**Thanksgiving 1992**

The room flashed between dark and light several hundred times until the flickering of light stopped and they found themselves standing in the same spot, just beyond the living room in Chandler's apartment.

Monica walked in with a brown paper bag in her hands. "Chandler? I made you your mac and cheese."

Chandler walked around the counter to meet her in the kitchen. "Hey. You didn't have to do that."

"I'm barely accepting the fact that you won't eat turkey and stuffing on Thanksgiving, there is no way I am letting you eat boxed mac and cheese with some orange powder. Not today."

"You made this?" He opened up the bag and took in the aroma.

"Yes. I even put hot dogs in it, but if anyone finds out, I will deny it. No self-respecting chef would ever put something like this together."

Chandler hopped in place and smiled at Monica ss he closed the bag back up. "Just the way I like it!".

"And just the way the FDA recommends you not make it."

"You don't know how great this meal is. The saltiness from the hot dog, the creaminess of the melted cheese, the starchiness of the pasta…"

Monica twisted her face up as she flashed him a skeptical scowl. "Where did you get that from?"

"I watched a cooking show earlier and they talked like that."

Monica tried to suppress a smile and shook her head. "Now, are you sure you don't want to come? You know you can bring this and eat at my parents."

"Oh no. I've got my brand-new copy of Die Hard and I am going to lie on the couch, watch John McClain say yippee-kai-yay and eat this. Besides, your dad always has the football game on, and he never knows what's going on. It'll just be him shouting questions at the TV. 'Who's is this guy? What's the score? When did they get green uniforms?' And I can't answer him, because, you know, I don't follow sports."

"You should at least have taken up Joey on his offer to go with him to his parent' house."

"I can't believe he left without me. Do you know he threw my shoe at me? Yelling at me to put them on. Who does that?"

Monica chuckled and shook her head. "He has a lot of sisters. You might have hit it off with one of them."

"And then Joey would have hit me. No thanks. You don't mess around with your friend's sister."

"Really? That's a guy rule? I don't think girls have that rule for brothers. Just my luck none of you have a brother to set me up with."

Chandler looked at Monica and smiled, and then his face dropped. "Hey. I recognize that look. You're about to start brow-beating me to reconsider and go with you and Ross."

"Yes I am. It is about time you got out of this funk."

Chandler pointed at Monica indignantly. "I'm not in a funk. You're in a funk!"

"I am not! I feel great. I work out and I don't eat terrible food every year for Thanksgiving."

"You eat terrible food. I've seen the brussel sprouts."

Monica gasped and then wagged an admonishing finger at him. "Chandler!"

Chandler jumped back, but then regained his composure. "Come one Monica. Thanksgiving is a day for family. Why would I want to be reminded of my own screwed up clan of misfits?"

"You know. Your parents aren't the only family you've got."

"You mean my uncle in Paramus?"

"What? No! I mean us. Ross, Carol, me, even Joey and Phoebe. Think about it, you guys are over all the time eating breakfast before work. Then you're back again at night raiding my fridge."

"For the record, Joey is the one who raids your fridge."

"That's not the point. We see each other more than any of us ever sees our families."

Chandler scoffed and walked into the living room. "That's because we're friends. We like each other. Normally, people actively try to avoid seeing their family, because they don't like them."

Monica leaned up against the counter and sighed. "I think you need to change up how you spend the holiday."

"No can do! There is nothing better than getting some funyuns, eating my mac and cheese, and watching a TV marathon. You know what's on today? The Twilight Zone. How can I choose Long Island over Rod Serling?"

"Chandler, I don't think that's healthy."

Chandler looked off to the side and pretended not to hear her. He instead, began to do an exaggerated William Shatner impression. "There is a man on the wing of this plane." Monica huffed as she rolled her eyes again. Chandler looked at her and gave her a gentle, reassuring smile. "Come on. You know that if you had a choice you would rather be sitting here with me watching TV all day than spending the holiday having to deal with your mother."

"No I wouldn't."

"Yes, you would."

Monica shook her head and relented. "Okay, fine. I would. But I'm still going to go. You know why?"

"You're a masochist?"

"No. Because when you have family, you don't abandon them, no matter what."

"Oh, my dear sweet innocent child. I have so much to teach you."

Monica gestured defeat with her hands and started to walk towards the door. "Okay, fine. Stay home. I'll swing by tonight when I get back to make sure this food didn't kill you."

**Thanksgiving 1993**

As she left the room, everything began to fade as it dissolved into night again. The apartment was empty, save for Chandler and the ghost.

Ross made his way towards the front door and turned to look at Chandler. "She had a point."

Chandler shook his head. "No. She doesn't know what she is talking about. Family, it abandons you."

"Has she?"

Chandler looked down and shook his head.

Ross opened the door and stepped into the hallway. "Are you trying to push everybody away? Because, that seems like kind of a lonely life."

Before Chandler could answer, Ross let the door close behind him. Chandler rushed over and quickly opened it again, only to see the hallway empty and dark. He gave one more look around and walked back into his apartment. "Stupid Ross with his stupid insightful observation."

Suddenly, a loud chime slowly rang twice. Chandler shuddered and covered his ears in response to the deafening noise. He looked up at the clock on the microwave. 2am. Another hour. Another spirit on their way. He covered his eyes in anticipation and stood there in his living room for a few minutes. Slowly, he moved his fingers away from his face and looked around the apartment. "Huh? Maybe that was it and I'm all done."

Before he could get comfortable, a booming voice called out from Joey's bedroom. "Come in! Come in and know me better man!"

Chandler peered over at the door to Joey's room and gingerly stepped over. He saw a bright light creeping out from under the door and warmth seemed to radiate from every crack exposed. "Joe? Is that you?"

Chandler slowly opened the door, and had to force it open as he felt resistance from the other side. He finally made enough space for him to squeeze inside the room and his eye went wide as he looked around. There were pizza boxes, wrapped sandwiches, fried chicken buckets, takeout Chinese food cartons and six-packs of beer spread all over the room. The food was piled on top of itself, practically tumbling down as it blocked the door from opening fully. The room had a warm, green glow, and as Chandler looked upon the mountain of food, he saw what appeared to be his roommate, Joey, wearing a heavy, full-bodied, fur-lined robe.

Joey sat there and laughed as he nodded. "Don't be shy! Come on in! There's plenty of food. Care for a slice of pizza?"

Chandler looked around one more time and shook his head at the sheer volume of food that filled the room. "What is going on here? Are you Joey?"

"I am the Ghost of Thanksgiving present! Come closer so we can talk."

Chandler squinted his eyes as he studied the gregarious man before him. "Okay. I'll come closer. Just, before I do, please tell me you aren't going commando under that robe."


	3. Joey: The Second of the Three Spirits

**Joey: The Second of the Three Spirits**

Joey laughed loudly as he looked down at Chandler from atop his mountain of food. "Come on in! Have a bite!"

Chandler looked around and grimaced as he ran his eyes over all the boxes, cartons and wrappers that were strewn across the room. "I don't know dude. I'm not into floor food."

Joey looked down and studied the food around him. "It's fine. Just, brush off what you don't want to eat."

Chandler took a step further into the room and as his foot landed, his shoulders went up and he winced as he raised his hands defensively. "Oh man, I stepped on something that just squished."

"Probably a jelly donut. I think I had a few dozen over there."

Chandler looked around the bedroom one more time and shook his head. "I'm sorry to say this Joe, but I don't think any of this is Thanksgiving food."

"What are you talking about?"

Chandler bent down and grabbed an item from the floor. "Like this. A Big Mac? Really? I don't think they had a McDonald's on the Mayflower."

"Anything can be Thanksgiving food buddy. A slice of pizza, a carton of chicken fried rice, a meatball sub, and even a grilled cheese sandwich and a bag of funyuns. As long as you are with the people you love, it doesn't really matter what you eat."

Chandler stammered for a moment as he tried to counter the spirits logic. "That's, uh….I mean to say is….uh…."

"Even mac and cheese with cut up hot dogs can be Thanksgiving food."

"Really?"

"Yes. Do you think everyone out there is eating turnips and brussel sprouts? Have you ever seen me eat a turnip? You know I only believe in the four food groups. Fried, cheesed, sandwiched, and jellied."

"Yeah, but…"

"No buts." Joey stretched his arm out towards Chandler. "Take my robe."

"Uh, like off? Because I love you buddy, but not in that way."

Joey shook his head and allowed an exasperated sigh to escape his lips. "Just grab my sleeve and I'll show you what Thanksgiving is all about."

Chandler slowly reached up and took some of the soft, fuzzy material into his hand and before he could say anything, the two men were gone, whisked away into the street. Chandler had to rub his eyes to adjust to the sunlight. "How is it the middle of the day?"

Joey ignored Chandler's question and gestured towards the people on the sidewalk as they entered and exited various shops. "Look around. What do you see?"

"Uh, a lot of people who don't look like they planned their Thanksgiving all that well."

"No. These are people bringing whatever they can find at the last minute to wherever they are going for Thanksgiving."

"Why do they have to bring anything?"

"You don't go to someone's house and not bring food!" Joey stepped away from Chandler and stalked up next to the closest person. He peered into their bag and leaned over so he could stick his nose inside and take in the aroma of the contents. "Oh yeah. Cinnamon buns." He then stepped over to another person and repeated his actions.

"What are you doing? Is that some kind of Thanksgiving blessing or something?"

Joey turned to look at Chandler and offered him an uneasy smile. "Uh, yeah. Totally. A blessing. I mean, why else would I be smelling all this food."

Chandler shook his head and then looked around. "Okay, fine. Everything is Thanksgiving food. That doesn't change the fact that they are all going to see their families and have their perfect little Norman Rockwell dinners."

"Are you kidding me? Have you ever actually sat down at a family dinner table before?"

"Well, I mean…"

Joey stuck his arm out at Chandler impatiently. "Take my robe."

"I don't want to."

"You take my robe or so help me…"

Chandler reached out and gingerly took the cloth of Joey's robe again. "All right! You don't have to get worked up about it."

The street faded away as it turned into Berber carpeting. The lampposts bent and twisted as they shrank down and became small table lamps set on top of end tables. The bright sky turned into a stucco ceiling. Chandler stumbled back in shock as the world around him transformed, and before he could hit the ground, a couch covered in plastic appeared and broke his fall.

He looked around the room he now found himself in with a dumbfounded look on his face. "Joe?" Before he could continue, he heard what seemed like a cacophony of noise as voices got louder and louder, yelling over each other. He strained to listen, but could not make out any words. He turned his attention back to the spirit as he allowed his confusion to manifest itself physically with his gestures. "Where are we?"

"My house. It's Thanksgiving dinner. Come on." Joey stepped forward and entered a small dining-room that was crowded with people. Chandler slipped in behind him and looked around. There were over a dozen Tribbianis squeezed around the table eating and bickering. Some of the family members were sitting on formal dining chairs while other looked to be on metal folding chairs. The table was packed with food. Lasagna, ziti, meatballs, sausages, turkey, broccoli, roasted potatoes, tater tots, warm rolls; an endless array of American and Italian fare. After a few minutes, Chandler had lost track of all the food he cataloged in his brain and gave up trying to figure out what everything was.

On top of all the sights and smells from the food on the table, was all of the noise. It seemed as if everyone was talking at the same time. Joey's seven sisters arguing about which one of them let the Graziano boy who lived on the corner touch their boobs when they were younger. It seemed as if they all had an encounter with him at one time or another, and upon finding out the truth, they began to call each other vulgar names.

Joey's father was shoveling food into his face, trying desperately to ignore the idea of his daughter's sexual awakenings and their licentious past. To Chandler's eyes, it seemed as though he was rushing through dinner as fast as he could so he could escape into the living room and distract himself from the rest of the family by watching football.

Joey's mother was piling food onto everyone's plate, she never sat down. She darted around the table, urging them to eat as she smacked a random child of hers in the back of the head every time they said something she perceived as offensive. Telling them how they were giving their father agita.

There were some members of the Tribbiani family that Chandler did not recognize. Maybe they were uncles or cousins. Maybe they were just family friends. Neither one seemed to be paying attention to the sister's as they continued to shout at each other. Instead, they argued about Bill Clinton and who they thought was funnier, Letterman or Leno, until they both agreed that Johnny Carson was the best of all time.

Joey's grandmother was sitting at the far end of the table. She gestured with her hands angrily in everyone's direction and spoke only in Italian. The only one who seemed to be able to understand her was Joey's mother, who would yell back in English at her to calm down and let the girls live their life. Joey's other grandmother seemed oblivious to everything. She poked and prodded at the food and would lean over to Joey's father and complain about her daughter-in-law's cooking.

Lastly, there was Joey. Food piled high on his plate, as he shoved forkful after forkful of pasta and meat into his mouth. His grandmother would only stop shouting in Italian long enough to pinch at his cheeks and nod, encouraging him to keep eating. He had a wide smile on his face and a glassy, satiated look in his eyes.

Chandler turned to face the ghost and shook his head as he ran his hands up over his face. "Oh my god! This house is insane."

"I know, right? Isn't it beautiful?"

Chandler stared wide eyed at the spirit and then gestured towards the table. "It's a madhouse. Everyone is yelling and nobody seems to like anyone else that's here. I'm convinced one of these people are going to die tonight."

"No. This is just family. What did you think? Everyone has a perfect Thanksgiving where they all applaud every time a new dish is taken out of the kitchen?"

As if on cue, Joey, sitting at the table, began to clap and cheer. "All right! Ma! You made the eggplant!"

Chandler turned back to the spirit and stared at him straight-faced. "Okay, maybe I cheer for food. But you knew that about me."

"I know. It gets awkward when we're at the movies and you find a Junior Mint or a Rolo in your pocket."

Joey waved him off dismissively and nodded in the direction of the table. "Just look. Look at the food. Look at how they are. Does any of that fit into your traditional idea of what Thanksgiving is all about?"

"The yelling seems pretty familiar actually. But so what? I mean, you guys are all still family. You have to be with each other."

"No we don't. This isn't about have to, this is about want to. Grab my robe again." Joey raised his arm quickly and accidentally smacked Chandler with his sleeve.

Chandler fell back and caught himself before he hit the ground. He glared at the Joey as he started to pull threads and fuzz from the robe out of his mouth. "Little warning next time big guy."

Joey rolled his eyes and then insisted Chandler grab his robe again. Once he did, they were gone. Only to reappear in front of a small home on a quiet suburban street. Chandler started to move his jaw up and down as he tried to regain his hearing.

"Oh sweet silence. How I've missed you."

"Well, don't miss it for too long. We're about to see another Thanksgiving."

"What do you mean?"

"Follow me." Joey grabbed Chandler by the hand and the two men started to levitate a few feet above the ground. They climbed higher as they floated towards the second floor of the house in front of them. Chandler looked over at Joey nervously as they got closer to the outside wall, but before he could protest, they passed through like ghosts and found themselves in the hallway.

Chandler gestured with his thumb towards the direction they had just come in from. "When we're done here, remind me to freak out about that." Joey shook his head and led Chandler down the hall. "So, where are we now?"

"Long Island. This is the Geller home." Before Chandler could reply, he heard voices coming up the stairs and instinctively ducked down. Joey looked at him and shook his head. "Don't you know how this works by now. They can't see or hear us!"

Chandler sheepishly shrugged his shoulders and stood up straight as he turned his attention to the voices that were getting closer to them.

"I'm telling you, we should be like the Blymens. They go away for the holidays every year and we are still hosting for our two adult children and your cousins who we don't even like."

"But Jack, it's a tradition."

Chandler stepped back and leaned against the wall as Jack and Judy Geller walked past him. "Judy! It is time for new traditions. Wouldn't you like to be out on the beach somewhere with a drink in your hand instead of shoveling snow from the driveway?"

"Yes, but…"

"Ross and Monica will understand. They both live in the city. Holiday traffic is terrible anyway and they have their own lives to live. They'll probably thank us."

Judy turned and opened the door to a closet. She stepped inside and started to go through some blankets and sheets. "It would be nice not to have to cook all that food every year."

"Look at us? We're making up beds for them. Isn't that ridiculous?" Jack stepped into the closet with Judy and put his hands around her waist. "Plus, we wouldn't have to sneak off into the closet when we want some dessert of our own!"

Chandler looked over at Joey, but the spirit had his eyes fixed on the Gellers. He smiled and rubbed his hands together salaciously.

Judy giggled and playfully slapped Jack on the arm. "Sneaking off to have sex in the closet would be another tradition that we would be getting rid of." The two of them begin to kiss and pull at each other's clothes haphazardly.

Chandler looked over at Joey and grimaced in disgust. "Joe! What the hell!"

"I know. They're gonna do it!"

"I don't want to watch that!"

Joey sighed and shook his head. "Fine. Let's go downstairs."

The two men appeared in the kitchen and looked on as they saw Monica and Ross washing dishes. Ross tilted his head as his face went white. "Oh god. Turn the water up or something."

"Why?"

"I think Mom and Dad are doing it again."

Monica began to dry heave and shivered a bit. "Maybe I'll go outside."

"Maybe I'll join you!" The two of them quickly scurried out the side door and stood on the back porch.

Monica turned to face Ross. "Did you get to talk to Carol today?"

"Yeah. I don't know. I think this whole lesbian thing is going to stick." Monica rolled her eyes and bit her lip as she tried to hold back from making a comment. "I'm supposed to go over there this weekend so we can talk."

"I'm sorry Ross." Monica leaned over and rubbed his arm. "Did she stay in the city?"

"No. She went to her parents. I think she was going to tell them too. What a way to spend Thanksgiving. 'Mom, dad, can you pass the mashed potatoes, oh, and by the way, I'm gay'."

Monica chuckled despite herself. "Talk about your memorable Thanksgivings."

Ross smirked and shook his head. "I guess bad Thanksgivings go around. Look at Chandler."

Monica nodded. "I know." She looked off into the yard. "You think he will ever come out for Thanksgiving again?"

"I don't know Mon. He hasn't for what, five years? I think he is set in his ways now."

"I feel bad. I know you and Carol are having a tough year, but at least you have us, she has her parents. Chandler, he doesn't think he has anybody. He's all alone."

Ross furrowed his brow. "That's ridiculous. He isn't alone. He's got us."

"I don't think he knows that."

"I think he does. He just doesn't want to celebrate Thanksgiving. I think we just have to accept it and stop asking him. I know I have."

Monica sighed as her shoulders slumped. "I just thought that I could convince him to be with people who care about him instead of being all alone watching TV every year. Maybe you're right. If we haven't gotten him to come out over the last five years, then what's the point. I guess I won't ask him to go anymore."

Chandler turned towards Joey. "Wait, are they giving up on me?"

"What do you think?"

"I'm not some lost cause. I mean, I kind of like it when Monica comes over every year. She brings me food and she tries to get me to go to her family's house and I make a joke about what's on TV and she rolls her eyes."

"Wow. It almost sounds like you have a tradition."

Chandler stopped and looked over at Joey. "What?"

"Think about it. You already have your own Thanksgiving tradition. You have someone who cares about you who visits you on this day every year. You eat a specific prepared dish. You watch something special on TV. You look forward to it. I'm just saying, don't look now, but you just might already celebrate the day in your own weird little way."

"No. I don't, that isn't...I mean...you're being..."

"Oh come on Chandler, you can see it, can't you? Even just a little bit."

Chandler folded his arms and looked off in the direction of the street as he adamantly shook his head. "nu-uh!"

The two men slowly stepped out of the yard and started to walk down the street, away from the Geller's home. Chandler looked over his shoulder, back in the direction they had come from. "I didn't really think it was that big a deal for everyone that I stayed home. I just thought they were trying to be nice."

Joey looked over at Chandler and nodded. "Looked like it was a big deal to Monica."

"Yeah. I can't believe she's so worried about me. Maybe I should talk to her."

"Maybe you should go with her next time she invites you."

Chandler nodded and looked down. "Okay, maybe there's something to that, but…" He stopped himself as he noticed rustling from underneath Joey's robe. "I'm sorry, but, is there something under your robe?"

"You mean the good stuff?"

"Eww! No! I mean that." Chandler points at something that shifted around from underneath. An apparent appendage that poked onto the street and then back into the robes. "It's like a foot, or maybe a claw?"

"Oh, yeah. It's kind of like a claw." He pulled back his robe and exposed what was underneath. Two small dogs, both whimpered and shivered in the cold night air.

Chandler leapt back and pointed at them hysterically. "Are those dogs? You've had dogs walking around with us this whole time? I can't be around dogs!"

Joey got down on one knee and wrapped his arms around the two dogs. He pet them in as he attempted to calm them down "Yeah, but these aren't ordinary dogs." He pointed to the one on his right. "This dog is regret." He then points at the dog on his left. "This one is resentment. You need to beware them both, but be afraid of resentment most." Chandler stepped back further and kept his eyes locked on the two dogs. "Resentment can lead you down a dark path buddy." Joey scratched under each dogs' chin and shook his head sympathetically.

Chandler looked down, and he felt a twinge of guilt at being fearful of two animals that appeared so afraid and broken. "Yeah, well, uh, I mean, they have you to take care of them, right? You'll watch over them. I mean, you guys are like a family, no?"

"I thought you said families abandon you."

Before Chandler could answer, a bell sounded out in the background. It was loud and oppressive. The noise felt like a weight on his shoulders, burrowing him down into the ground. Three times the bell tolled and he cowered at the ominous sound. When the ringing stopped and Chandler regained his composure, he saw that the spirit was gone.

He looked around the dark, quiet street and wondered how he was going to get home. He turned and looked back at the Geller house and for a moment, thought to try and walk back to see if he was really here or if he was still just a figment that was invisible to all, playing on the mist in the air. Suddenly, he shivered and turned sharply as he felt a presence behind him. There in the street was a hooded figure. It floated above the ground. It appeared to him as some shapeless apparition that came closer with each passing second.

He wanted to run but was frozen in his tracks as he watched the figure stalk its way over to him. He cowered and shivered as he felt the cold air envelop him. A slight, pale, skinny finger extended from the sleeve of the spirit and it pointed at Chandler with condemnatory intent.

Chandler looked around one last time, hoping to be spared from facing whatever it was that stood before him. "Who? Me? I don't think you want me. There's this guy down the road. I'm sure you're looking for him. His name's Ross."

The figure pointed at him again, this time it jabbed it's finger into his chest, which caused Chandler to wince and yelp in pain and fear. "Ow! You don't have to be so forceful."

The figure stopped and slumped its shoulders. "I'm sorry. I'm still very new at this."

Chandler's face screwed up in puzzlement as he stood up straight. "Phoebe?" The spirit threw back its hood, revealing itself to be Phoebe Buffay. Only, to Chandler's eyes, she looked older than the girl he knew. Chandler studied her face and shook his head. "Why do you look so old?"

Phoebe shook her head and sighed heavily. "You think I look old, you should see yourself in twenty years."

"What?"

"I'm the Ghost of Thanksgiving Future."

Chandler stared at her for several seconds and then looked down at her robes. "You don't have any dogs under there, right?"


	4. Phoebe: The Third of the Three Spirits

**Phoebe: The Third of the Three Spirits**

Chandler looked over at Phoebe and shook his head vigorously, as if he could clear his mind and wipe the vision of her away with his erratic movements. He tried to convince himself that what he was seeing was not actually real, and was, in fact, a figment of his imagination. He blinked his eyes rapidly several times, yet, Phoebe, in her long black cloak, refused to disappear. Instead, she tapped her foot and waited impatiently for him to finish with his histrionics.

She did not look exactly like the young woman that he knows now; her hair was straight instead of having a few curls that bounced along her shoulders when she talked and laughed. Her hair was also a lighter color than the golden blonde he was more accustomed to. She had faint signs of crow's feet forming around her eyes and a few smile lines that were indented along the corners of her mouth. Yet, more than any changes to her physical appearance, she had a glint of wisdom in her eyes that clearly showed her age. Gone were those naïve, child-like, wide globes that she saw the magic of the world through, instead, there was a touch of cynicism now when he looked at her that almost made him sad.

Chandler, finally came to terms with what was happening before him; he cleared his throat and scratched at the back of his neck. "Uh, Pheebs? What's going on?"

"I told you. I'm the last spirit you will see tonight. I am the Ghost of Thanksgiving Future. Which makes total sense if you think about it, I mean, who better to show you the future? I'm practically a clairvoyant!"

Chandler shuddered a bit as he resisted the urge to retort with sarcasm. "I guess. So, is this where you take me to some Thanksgiving in my future where I'm sitting all alone in my apartment as an old man? Is this where you try to spur me on to regret and repent or something like that?" Chandler chuckled quietly and put his hands on his hips as he looked down.

Phoebe waved him off. "Oh no. You would probably like that. Have us prove you right or something and validate everything you have in that thick skull of yours. Nope. I have a different plan." Phoebe snatched Chandler's arm, and in a flash, they were gone from the street in front of the Geller's house.

Chandler felt a cold wind hit him that practically sliced its way through his clothes as the world came back into focus. His knees wobbled and he struggled as he tried to hold himself upright. "I think I'm going to be sick."

Phoebe laughed and gently pushed him forward. "I forgot how soft you are."

Chandler turned to look at her and scowled as he jabbed a finger in her direction. "I'm not soft!"

"Oh please. I know where you keep your copy of Steel Magnolias."

Chandler gasped in shock, but then composed himself as he pointed his finger at Phoebe more forcefully. "Those women showed strength and grace under adversity!"

Phoebe giggled as she prodded him forward again. "Just look."

Chandler turned back around and let his gaze fall to the home in front of him. He strained his eyes as he started to make out a figure inside that was walking around from room to room on the first floor. "Where are we?"

"We're in L.A."

"L.A.?" Chandler stepped closer to the window and cupped his hands so he could look through it as he leaned up against the glass. Inside he could make out a man with silver and grey hair moving around. He was setting up some food from a microwaved dinner onto a plate. When he looked up, Chandler stepped back in shock. "Is that Joe? He got so old!"

"I think he looks sexy. Grey hair is in now anyway."

Chandler shook his head and returned his attention to his best friend's future self, inside the house. "What am I looking at?"

"This is what your aversion to spending Thanksgiving with people did. You see, a few years into your future, you and Joey have this big fight over a woman. Since you never went to Thanksgiving dinner, the two of you never made up. He moved out not long after and decided to go to L.A. and try to get work."

"He's still here though, so it must be working out for him. Right?"

Phoebe rolled her eyes. "Yes. All successful actors live in one-bedroom homes and eat a Hungry Man dinner while they sit in in their kitchen all alone on Thanksgiving."

Chandler looked back at Phoebe once more and twisted his face up in frustration. "Why doesn't he just go home for Thanksgiving?"

"He can't afford it. He works here as an acting coach and a valet. And he is not very good at either one."

Chandler stepped away from the window and looked down. "I don't understand…."

Phoebe sighed heavily. "Without you there to support him for all those years, he isn't prepared for such a big move and he doesn't make it. He's too proud to call his family for money."

"You mean to tell me he just sits here alone? What about the others? Ross? You? Monica?"

"Over the years, we all sort of drifted apart. The group never really recovered from when the two of you stopped talking to each other."

"But, that doesn't make any sense that we wouldn't talk to each other anymore. I mean, me and Joe…we're…"

"Family?"

"Yeah."

"I know. It's pretty sad." Phoebe turned her eyes down as a forlorn look fell across her face. She then lit up and smiled as she clapped her hands excitedly. "Ooo! Look what I can do!" She began to wave her hands around in large circles in front of a confused Chandler. Everything around him started to become hazy. The house they were standing in front of faded away. As the world started to come back into focus, Chandler was overcome with the din of city traffic. He spun around and smiled as he recognized that they had reappeared on the corner of Bedford and Grove.

"Oh, thank God, you're taking me home."

Phoebe shook her head. "No I'm not. This is the future. How do you not get that by now?"

Chandler shook his head and looked around. "But, if this is the future, why aren't there like, flying cars and jet packs."

"How far into the future do you think you live?"

"I don't know…wait, do I die young? Please don't tell me that I die young. I haven't had nearly enough sex! Plus, I'm too cute to die young."

Phoebe rolled her eyes and exhaled heavily with frustration. "You're not that cute. Come on, let's go upstairs."

As the two of them started their ascent, Chandler looked around and then stared at Phoebe incredulously. "Why are we walking up the stairs? I thought you could just, you know…" Chandler started to snap his fingers rapidly around and then shrugged his shoulders. "I figured you would just snap us around."

"Jeez. You complained about all the…" Phoebe mimicked Chandler's snapping motions with a snide look on her face. "…before with the other ghosts, but now that it involves climbing stairs you want a quick ride."

Once they reached his floor, Chandler instinctively walked over towards his apartment. Phoebe made her way to Monica's door and turned her head to look at him. "Where are you going?"

"I just figured that we were going to check in on me."

"You are so conceited. Do you know that? We aren't visiting you!"

Chandler shrugged his shoulders and turned around to follow Phoebe. "Uh, sorry?"

"You should be." Phoebe pointed toward the door to apartment 20 and grabbed his hand as she walked towards it. Before Chandler could protest or reach down and grab the knob, the two of them walk through the door as if it weren't there at all.

Chandler shuddered at the sensation of walking through a solid steel door. "You won't just snap us in here but you will make me walk through a door and give me the heebie jeebies."

Phoebe covered her mouth as she attempted to stifle a laugh. "I know. It's a lot of fun freaking you out."

Chandler shook his head and stepped forward into the apartment. "Well, what are we doing here?"

Before Phoebe could reply, Monica stepped into the living room as she walked from her bedroom to the kitchen. She also looked older to Chandler. Her hair, while still black, had some errant strands of grey mixed in. She was still very slim and athletic looking; and on her face was a somber and weary expression.

Chandler turned to Phoebe and smiled as he slowly nodded. "Hey! Monica aged well!"

Phoebe looked at herself and then back at Monica. "And…"

"And, uh, she must still work out."

Phoebe walked past Chandler towards the center of the apartment and mumbled under her breath. "Throw me a bone here."

Monica removed a pair of earrings and placed them on the kitchen table. She opened the door to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water.

Chandler turned to look at Phoebe. "You didn't really answer me before. What are we doing here?"

"Monica just got home from visiting her dad, who is in assisted living. They put a puzzle together and shared some Jello."

"Wow. That sounds like a rocking night out on the town." Chandler started to chuckle, but upon seeing Phoebe's face, who was clearly unamused, he slowly let his laugh trail off.

"Anyway, now she's back home for the night. All alone."

Chandler looks around the apartment, bemused. "Alone? Monica? Really?"

"Yes. She has no husband, no kids. Ross moved to Chicago. Her roommate moved to Paris a few years ago. Joey is in L.A. You're in England."

Chandler nodded soberly and then gently elbowed Phoebe in the side. "Where are you?"

"I'm right here next to you. Duh."

Chandler shook his head in frustration. "No, I mean, in the future. Why aren't you around?"

"Oh. Well, I'm in Minsk. You don't screw things up in Barbados, so Monica never has to fix everything and Mike never shows up…"

Chandler squinted his eyes as he studied his friend again. "What are you talking about? Who is Mike? Are you having a stroke?"

Phoebe shook her head and then looked back at Monica. "On the bright side, they love my music in Minsk."

"Why is everyone all over the place?"

Well, after Joey left, you blamed Thanksgiving for your fight. You were pretty torn up about it and the whole group was under a lot of strain about which one of you to see more than the other. You decide to move to a country that doesn't have Thanksgiving. Ross and Rachel never get back together because there were no wedding invitations to send out, so they never have Emma..."

Chandler cut Phoebe off as his brow wrinkled in confusion. "None of what you are saying makes any sense. Are you sure you are not having a stroke?" Phoebe shook her head one more time as she glared at Chandler. "Wait. So, Monica is all alone? All the time?"

"Yeah."

"Just because I hate Thanksgiving?"

"Chandler. Haven't you realized by now that you don't hate Thanksgiving. You hate the idea that you might end up alone. That everyone will abandon you eventually."

Chandler stood there quietly for a few moments as he watched Monica sip at her bottle of water. "Yeah, sure, I mean…maybe…but, if I do all this, maybe I should be alone?"

Phoebe screwed up her face in confusion. "What?"

"I mean, look at what I did to everyone. No one is happy. This is what being around me does. It's just like my parents. Maybe, you know, if I wasn't around, they would have been happier."

Phoebe shook her head and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "None of these bad things that happen are because you're around. They happen because you aren't around."

"I don't understand."

"Okay, I'm not supposed to do this, but…." Phoebe grabbed Chandler's arm and snapped her fingers. In a flash, the two of them were standing in Chandler's apartment.

"See! I told you that you could just snap us around!"

"Hush!" Phoebe pointed towards the kitchen and Chandler saw himself standing at the door to his apartment as he watched a woman dance around with a turkey on her head.

"What is this?"

"Shh! Just wait."

The woman turned her back to this other Chandler and he could not help but smile. "You're so great, I love you."

"Phoebe, what is this?"

"This is Thanksgiving. Sometime in the future. That's you and your girlfriend making up."

Chandler looked back and forth between Phoebe and the scene that was unfolding before him. He looked the woman up and down and allowed a smirk to form at the corner of his mouth. "She's hot. Who is she?"

Phoebe shook her head, grabbed Chandler and spun him around. The room went dark and Chandler had to take a moment and allow his eyes to become adjusted to the low light in the room. The world finally started to become clearer and Chandler could see himself climbing into bed. From under the covers, a woman's arm stretched over and pulled him down. This other version of Chandler chuckled and looked down at the person who was obscured by blankets and pillows. "Can you believe it? I don't think anybody's parents have ever approved of me. Not even my own."

Chandler looked over at Phoebe who could only return his confused look with a smile. "This is the next Thanksgiving. You two live together now."

Chandler points at the bed. "This is the same girl from before?"

"Yeah."

"You're telling me I am with the same girl for a year?"

"Almost a year and a half now."

"And we live together?"

Phoebe laughed and spun Chandler around again. The bedroom disappeared and Chandler found himself standing in a small, dark, yet familiar looking bathroom. He could hear the water running from the shower as steam billowed around the closed curtain, as it slowly filled the room.

A slender hand suddenly poked out from inside the shower. "Sweetie? Can you hand me the lotion on top of the medicine cabinet?"

Chandler turned to look at Phoebe. "Is there a naked woman in here?"

Phoebe reluctantly answers him with a terse, "Yes."

Chandler bounced on his heels and smiled. "Can we peek?"

"No. Anyway, she's your fiancé now and you guys are getting ready to host Thanksgiving dinner. Again."

"Again? You mean to tell me I actually invite people into my home to celebrate this stupid holiday?"

Phoebe raised her hand and slapped him on the back of the head, causing him to close his eyes in pain. As he rubbed the back of his head and opened his eyes, he allowed himself to make a snide comment. "Let me guess, Thanksgiving?"

"Yes, but look at your hand."

Chandler looked down at his hand, only to see a ring. "Is that a wedding ring? Why is it on my hand?"

"Don't worry about it. Look over there." A table appeared in the darkness across from them where all of his friends were sitting down; laughing, eating, and smiling. "Look at all your friends. Look at how happy they are."

Chandler smiled as he watched to scene unfold. He then looked around the table at everyone. "So, where's my wife. Is she here?"

Phoebe stammered a bit but then was able to compose herself long enough to grab at his clothes again. "Oh, uh, well, she'll be along any minute, but we can't stay here and wait for her to show up. We have to go."

Another flash, and Chandler looked across the dark hallway that he found himself in with Phoebe. He saw and older version of himself sitting on a step as he played with his wedding ring. His face was full of melancholy and regret.

"What's this?"

"You're a little depressed this time around. You don't think you're going to be a good father."

"I'm going to be a father?"

"Eventually. Anyway, any minute now, your wife is going to walk through that door and tell you she thinks you'll be a great dad and how she wants to raise a family with you."

Chandler walked over to lean on the wall. "This is too much. I need you to stop."

Phoebe ignored his protests and spun him around off the wall. He stumbled and fell to the ground. He looked up and saw himself standing on what looked to be a terrace.

He stood up, brushed himself off and looked at Phoebe. "Where am I now?"

"Another Thanksgiving." She pointed down at a piece of paper that the older version of himself was holding. "See that brochure? With the babies on it?"

"Yeah."

"You just found out that you're going to have a baby."

"Phoebe. I can't…no more. I just need to catch my breath."

Phoebe nodded and helped Chandler up. "Okay. Sure, that makes sense. Let's take a break." She then shoved him off the balcony and before he could panic, his backside felt a shock of pain as he hit a hard wood floor. He sat up and looked around the room, which was empty, save an old man snoring in a recliner.

"Now where are we?"

"Just watch and stop asking questions."

Chandler turned as he heard quick footsteps approach the room. A small child of five or six charged into the room and jumped up, landing on the old man's lap. "Grandpa! Grandpa!"

The man winced and slowly opened one eye. "Ouch! You know, if startling me like that were to kill me, you would feel really bad for the rest of your life."

The child, who did not seem to understand the old man's joke, tugged on his hand. "Come on. Dessert is on the table!"

"Okay. I'm coming." He leaned his head back and closed his eyes again.

The child began to push at his chest. "Hey! Don't fall back asleep!"

Before the old man could respond, three more small children entered the room in a frenzy. The started to tug and pull at any part of the old man that they could grab as they tried to pull him out of his chair.

"Come on grandpa!"

A fifth child scurried into the room. "Grandma said if you aren't in the dining room to help set up, she's going to divorce you."

Chandler turned to look at Phoebe as his eyes widened. "Jesus. How many kids are here?"

"Shh!"

The old man let out a chuckle and sat up straight. "Tell her there is no way she will find another silver fox like me at her monthly bingo game at the rec center."

"Grandpa!"

"Fine, fine. I'm up. I'm moving."

Chandler, still down on the floor, watched as the old man and the children left the room. "They should have let him sleep."

"Well, they would, but they love him too much and want to spend every minute they can with him. He makes them laugh and he spoils them rotten." Phoebe got down on one knee beside him and placed her hand on his shoulder. "This is what Thanksgiving can be. You just have to find people you love and people who love you and spend as much time with them as you can. Everyone deserves to know that kind of love. Even you, Chandler Bing."

Chandler allowed a slow smile to form as he realized who the old man was. "So, I don't die young?"

"Ugh! You're hopeless" Phoebe quickly raised her hand and hit him on the head. The blow does not hurt him too much, but it does knock him off balance, and caused him to tumble onto his back. His eyes closed in response to the contact he made with the floor behind him, and when he opened them again, he found himself on the floor in his bedroom.

"What? Where?" Chandler tried to jump up, but he was tangled up in his bedsheets, which caused him to stumble and fall down again. He looked around the room, trying to discern if he was actually back in the real world and that the spirits were finally gone and out of his life forever.

He shivered as he was startled when he started to hear noises come from outside his bedroom. Loud, ominous music and the pop of gunshots playing off of the television in his living room. "Hello!" He slowly untangled himself from the sheets and pried open his door a crack to see if someone was in his apartment. "Who's there? I don't want anymore spirits! Okay! I get it now! I do!"

"Jeez, will you pipe down?'

Chandler jumped up off the floor and into the living room upon hearing Joey's voice. He let out a sigh of relief as he observed Joey sitting on the couch, eating a slice of pizza.

"Oh my god! Joey? That's you right. You don't have any dogs or anything in your pants?"

"Dogs?"

"Yeah. I hate dogs, and the last time I saw you, you had two of them…"

Joey screwed up his face in suspicious confusion. "Who in the world would hate a dog?"

Chandler's voice became small once he realized that he let Joey know one of his deeper secrets. "Well, uh, the people who owned Cujo. I bet the hate dogs now."

Joey turned to look at Chandler and shook his head. "Everyone loves dogs! They're so friendly and cuddly. You should probably keep this whole dog thing to yourself."

Chandler bounded across the room and wrapped Joey in a tight hug which caused him to drop his slice of pizza. "Look what you made me do with your crazy dog hating hug!" He picked up the slice of pizza and brushed it off. "Oh man, that was close. What is wrong with you?"

"I can't believe they did it all and got me back here in time to celebrate with everyone."

Joey leaned in, puzzled by Chandler's words. "Who did what now?"

"They got me here! For Thanksgiving! I didn't miss it."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know, like in the movie. I come to my senses and make it to Thanksgiving."

"Dude, its Friday. And, what movie?"

Chandler stepped back, shocked by Joey's revelation. "What? Friday? But that doesn't make any sense. Why would they let me miss it?"

"I don't know who they are, but I do know you almost slept the whole day away."

Chandler slowly shook his head. "I guess it was all a dream. But it felt so real. You were there, and Ross…and I think maybe Phoebe…and Monica…."

"Nice. Was Phoebe or Monica naked?"

Chandler glared at Joey from the side of his eye and then shook his head one more time; "I'm not even sure. It's all kind of fading away now. I do think you ate food off the floor though."

"Dude, that wasn't a dream, that was Wednesday night. I dropped my sandwich."

"Maybe you should get your reflexes checked." Chandler sat down next to Joey and leaned his head back. "It's so crazy. It's was this really vivid dream, but now, it's like there's a word that I need to use, but can't think of it. Like it is all there on the tip of my tongue."

"Sorry dude, but if you didn't have sex in the dream, is it really worth remembering?"

"Good point."

**A Few Days Before Thanksgiving 1994**

Monica turned to look at Ross and gestured towards him before he left the coffee shop. "Okay, so it'll be me, you and Phoebe on Thursday."

"Okay. I'll uh, see you guys later." Ross quickly stepped out the door, and disappeared onto the street.

Phoebe turned her attention to Joey as they started to talk about all the possible ailments his poster for the city free clinic could be for. Chandler sat back and smiled, feeling content as he watched them take turns naming each disease. Suddenly, his face went white and he sat up straight. He was not sure what had compelled him to get up from his seat, but there was a faint impression in the back of his head which forced him to turn and face Monica. "Hey, uh, Mon. Since you guys are going to be here for Thanksgiving, uh, do you think I can come over?"

Monica eyes went wide as she raised her hand to her chest. "What?"

"I, uh, just thought, that, maybe I could…"

"Chandler. Of course. I didn't ask you just now because I figured you wanted to eat your food at your place alone like always."

"No, uh, I don't think I want to be alone. Not anymore. Is that okay?"

"Yes sweetie. Of course it is okay. How about when I go to the store to buy everything else for Thursday, I'll pick you up some of your special brand of Thanksgiving food and we will all eat together."

Chandler smiled and looked down. "Thanks. That sounds really great."

**Thanksgiving 1994**

Chandler stood at the sink in Monica's kitchen and rinsed off a dish. Monica came up behind him and poked him in the side, causing him to jump a little as she startled him. She smiled and took the dish from him so she could dry it. "That was really nice, what you said earlier tonight."

"Huh?"

"About all of us being together. You know, I was thinking, maybe we should try to make this our thing. We all already spend Christmas with our families. Maybe we should try to spend thanksgiving with each other. Make it a Friendsgiving."

Chandler frowned a bit as he handed her another plate to dry. "Do we have to call it that?"

Monica elbowed him playfully on the side. "I'm serious."

Chandler stopped his motions and looked over at her and smiled. "That sounds great. I'd really like it if we could do that."

Monica looked up at him and matched his smile with her own. "Look at you. Are you going soft on me, Bing?"

"Maybe a little. Don't tell anyone, okay?"

"Okay."

**Thanksgiving, 2019**

Chandler stood at the sink in his and Monica's kitchen and rinsed off a dish. Monica came up behind him and poked him in the side, causing him to jump a little as she startled him. She smiled and took the dish from him so she could dry it. "That was really nice, what you said earlier tonight."

"What?"

"About the kids. You're really going to miss them when they go off to school, aren't you?"

"Maybe a little. I know they have another year of high school still, but going away to college is all they can talk about. I don't know if I am ready for an empty house."

"You aren't going soft on me are you, Bing?"

"I've been pretty soft for about 25 years now because of you. Give or take a few."

Monica looked up at him and allowed a sly smile to spread across her lips. "Really?"

Chandler stopped his motions and turned to look at her. "I know this is going to sound pretty cliché, but I have a lot to be thankful for, and it's all because of you."

"Yeah?"

"You never gave up on me, even before we started dating."

Monica furrowed her brow and placed the plate she was drying down on the counter. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I was thinking tonight about how I used to spend Thanksgiving alone in my apartment and how you always came by trying to get me to come with you to your parents. Why did you do that?"

"Well…you were my best friend. I didn't like seeing you punish yourself for something you didn't have any control over."

"What do you mean?"

"Your parents' divorce. I think you used to blame yourself for it."

Chandler looked down and nodded slowly. "When I was a kid, there were a few years, right after they split up, where I was really bitter because I thought neither one of them loved me enough to try and make it work. That somehow our family wasn't worth saving. By the time I got older, even though I knew better, I still had this feeling that I was somehow the source of all of it. If I let myself get to close to people, it would happen all over again. They'd just leave because, maybe I wasn't worth staying around for. I think in those first few years after college, I tried not to let anybody get that close to me."

Monica lifted his chin so she could look him in the eye. "You were close with me."

"Well that was different. You're really hot."

Monica rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Here I thought we were having a breakthrough."

Chandler chuckled and planted a quick kiss on the top of her head. "It was different with you. You weren't just anyone. You were Monica. And even back then, I knew on some level how special you were and that I could not let you get away. Not as a best friend, or a girlfriend, or a wife."

Monica's eyes shined as she leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. "Aww. That's so sweet."

"Thanks for going through all that trouble through the years and always coming over to get me."

Monica wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in close for a kiss. "You were always worth the effort to go get."

* * *

A/N - Well, that's a wrap. This was never going to be a long story due to the structure of the three spirits. Plus, it is January 2nd and we should put all things Thanksgiving aside. I couldn't really figure out how to get Rachel in this since the bulk of the story takes place a year before she joins the group. I want to thank everyone for taking the time to read and hope you enjoyed it.


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